Wednesday, May 8, 2019

Below the Speed of Light

I love the slow, the gentle,
And the strange, especially
Taken together,

My fine-grained
Measurement of the seasons
By the angle of sunlight
Reaching the bedroom each dawn,

The lake like a boat
Gliding into the mountains,
Its prow dividing green waves,
Stars surfacing in its wake,

The lonely ache that visits
As a holy dove and leaves
When I’m alone with the world.

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